Companion
by crearealidad
Summary: It's not fair, she knows, but she drowns the guilt with the sound of his rasping breath, promising that if she can't give him anything else, she can give him this one night, this one reality laced-dream to keep him going.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I do things here in batches. Nothing for a few weeks and then I have an insomniac night and upload a bunch. At least thus far seems to be cooperating.

This comes from a kink meme prompt, but the prompt shall go at the end so it doesn't ruin the... direction of said story.

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Kate's never entirely sure of the exact moment when her dream switched over to reality. Her first memory is of his scent – cologne and toothpaste with a lingering hint of the pizza they'd had for dinner – notifying her of his proximity. On instinct, she inhales, savoring the warmth that stirred in her chest at the familiar smell and leans back into the warmth of his chest. He responds with heavy limbs, fingers dragging across her hip before settling against the lowest plane of her abdomen, spreading and hauling her firmly against his frame.

Then his nose and his lips are nuzzling their way through her hair, finding her ear and sending shivers down her spine. He's mumbling, first just sounds and then its _Kate_ followed by a breathy _more. _It all feels hazy and she can't seem to move her limbs, so she lets him hold her, giving in to the need to be here with him.

It's a familiar dream, one she's had before and she indulges easily, lifting her chin and settling her hand over his. He hums his approval against her cheek, swirling his heated minty breath across her face, inviting her to turn to face him. But his grip on her is firm, arm slung heavily across her waist, his thick fingers pressing just inches above her clit, igniting a wave of heat along her skin that leaves her wishing she could have this every night. He has a hand under her and its found its way to her breast, palming with a possessive curl of his fingers. She loves this dream and eagerly arches against him palm, encouraging him to continue on.

He's tugging her back against him clumsily, his palm dragging up, pushing up her t-shirt and seeking out skin. Soon, he has her gasping as his thumb brushes the underside of her breast through the bunched up t-shirt. His breath is still steady and deep against her ear, but his unconscious body seeks hers, his hips squirming until she's met with his erection settled firmly against the back of her bare thighs. It feels hot against her skin and her own body writhes against it eagerly.

"Mmmm, Castle," she groans, feeling that hand once more roving downward, wriggling its way past the elastic waistband of her shorts, tracing the edge of her underwear aimlessly. He just grunts in response, moving against her with renewed eagerness and she feels it. His erection is aligned against the crotch of her panties – his chest pressing against her back to bend her forward, his thighs tucking up to rest behind her own – and it's too real. She's wet and her body aches with arousal at the feel of him wrapped around her.

He's really behind her with his erection dragging along her crotch and his fingers really are down her shorts.

Fighting the urge to bolt straight up for fear of waking him, she drags in a breath, eyes flying open to scan the space, scrambling to remember why she's curled up in a bed with an unconscious, possessive Richard Castle. Her heart hammers in her ears as she hears him explaining that the hotels knew that he wasn't into drugs, but that they might uncover the concierge that linked the hotel and their victims if he had a "companion."

The memory has her rolling her eyes all over again, cursing the fluttery excitement she'd felt at the prospect of the ruse. It had been a thin plan at best, but selfishly, she'd wanted a taste of what she might have if she was ever ready. But that's all she'd expected – a taste. His hand at her waist or on her wrist, perhaps the brush of his lips against her cheek or maybe even her neck, that, she thought, would be enough to have her distracted and conscious of his every move for the rest of the day.

But he's been a gentleman all day, his skin never meeting directly with hers, instead lingering in places where her clothes separated them. The only "taste" of him that she'd been graced with was his mouth, constantly whispering and joking at her ear, hovering between amusing and grating on her very last nerve. Waking up to this… it feels way too much like winning. Like she's being rewarded for denying herself, and him, for so long.

When his hand shifts again, any thought that this might be a dream is evaporated. Dreams have been this good, this realistic. He's pulling her back again, his hips rocking subtly, creating a new kind of friction against her already aching body.

Part of her mind is screaming at her to get up, to get away, that she can't let this happen like this. They're on a case and he's not even conscious. If he wakes, it's only going to break his heart when she tells him she's not ready. If he doesn't, then it becomes yet another secret to bear.

But the sensations are too good, too much of what she's needed for months and she can't seem to make a move to stop him. She feels so overheated and overwhelmed by his presence that she can scarcely catch her breath. Their bodies are so close now that she's hyper aware of the fact that she's leaving a damp place against the crotch of his pajama pants with the weight of her arousal.

That knowledge alone has her head spinning. It's been so long since she's been touched like this and it takes every ounce of self control she possesses to not just roll over and kiss him into consciousness so that she have all of him. Here, in this bed with him, she knows that's what she needs, but she's still too scared, too broken and it's only the fear of hurting him that keeps her in place.

But it's his fingers that block any hope she might have of bringing a halt to this little interlude from reality.

His fingers are curling, nudging their way along the crotch of her underwear, pressing the soft cotton into her until his thick fingertips are dragging against her clit. His aim is terrible and the movement should be all wrong but none of that seems to matter at the moment. Meanwhile he's got his mouth moving against her neck, wet and too hot and sticky but beneath his heavy breaths, she thinks she hears the sleep-impaired syllables of her name and suddenly, she's too far gone to dare stop him.

She bites down on her lower lip hard, struggling to keep quiet. It's not fair, she knows, but she drowns the guilt with the sound of his rasping breath, promising that if she can't give him anything else, she can give him this one night, this one reality laced-dream to keep him going.

Suddenly, he's groaning, the sound of _Please, Kate_, echoing through the hotel room as he shifts himself, rolling onto his back. While she hadn't doubted it before, actually hearing him stumbling sleepily over her name gives her one more excuse to keep going. He's dreaming about her, about them. She wonders if they're here or somewhere else in his mind, but has little time to contemplate the possibilities before he's dragging her bodily across his chest.

The position is awkward and before she can think it through, she finds herself straddling him, resting on her knees. His hands roam for a moment in confusion, but find their way to her thighs, smearing her own wetness along the bare skin.

As his hands settle in, she leans forward just enough to see his face for the first time since this began. There are pillow creases on his cheek and his lips are slightly parted as she brings her hand to rest on his chest as she feels his hips began to move against her center. He's close – his fingers digging into the tops of her thighs as his movements grow jerky, the muscles of his abdomen tightening with anticipation – and she can't stop staring at the softened, dazed expression that's on his face.

She rocks her own hips, aiding his movement until suddenly his hands are at her waist, pressing her down hard against him as his head falls back against the pillow. Her instincts are in control now and she's moving with slow, careful strokes against him, vigilant in her observation of his expression. Some where in the back of her mind, a little voice is expressing (pointlessly) that she's always thought that he'd be a talker.

As though he'd heard the question, he starts muttering her name again and again, alternating between Kate and Beckett and _Love_. Then he's tightening, hips lifting and pressing up against her and she knows climaxing against her. It's too much and she feels the tears against her burning cheeks before she knows they've arrived.

Before she can extract herself, his hips slowly still and his hands are reaching upwards. He's under her t-shirt, playing his fingers along her spine as she tries to bite back her tears. Her body is screaming for release, even as the guilt crashes in, and can't help but respond to the feel of his fingers on her skin.

She's the one grinding then, riding against him as his hands curve downward to cup her ass, tilting her forward until she's nearly flat against his chest. His mouth ends up against her hair with a whispered _please_ and it doesn't take long before she's so close to the edge that when one of his fingers accidentally grazes up against her clit, she comes hard against his hand, muffling herself against his chest and nearly forgetting that he won't even remember this come morning.

The tense, throbbing lingers even after the initial wave of sensation subsides and it isn't until her heart rate returns to normal that she attempts to rise. But when she lifts her head from his chest, she realizes that it will be impossible to deny it all come morning. Their skin is damp with sweat and the unmistakable smell of it mingled with the musky scent of sex and hung heavily in the room. Then there was their clothing equally rumpled and damp, to the point that it clung against her skin.

Even if she's still not sure when she'd phased from dream to reality, there's no doubt in her mind of when the last of her illusions shattered.

She shifts, lifting her knee to dismount from his lap when he's suddenly awake. He blinks, eyes opening slowly as his fingers tighten once more at her waist to keep her on top of him. In the dark, she waits for him to react, but even in the dark, she can see it's not confusion that is dominating his features. There are still tears staining her cheeks and there's no way he can miss the sticky, heated mess between them.

But no questions come. He just breathes her name softly, a smile spreading across his lips.

Had he been awake the whole time? She can't tell but he's way too calm, too confident as his hands shift upwards. One spreads across her back while the other hooks behind her neck to pull her down until he's kissing her. Her tacit resistance is ignored, though it's little more than a tightening of her muscles anyway, as his lips press chastely against her own before his head lifts to deepen the kiss. His mouth opens and she melts against him, giving in to the feel of his teeth nipping her lower lip until she opens for him, allowing his tongue to tease against the inside of her mouth. Any satisfaction she might have gleaned from her orgasm is gone and his lips reawaken her body.

Then he's rolling onto his side, arranging her at his side so he's got one arm under her and the other over and his lips are dragging a heated trail down her throat. She can't decide if he'd been awake the whole time or if he too is still lost in a dream, but she can't care. While his heavy, unfocused touch had been enough to captivate her, this insistent, demanding path he's taking is slowly killing her.

His hands are at the hem of her shirt, tugging upwards as he whispers in what is nearly a whine, "I didn't even get to see you naked…"

Her eyes dart up at the sound of the sleep still tingeing his voice to find that his eyes have fluttered shut once more. The knowledge jerks at her chest and she can't figure out why. Perhaps he'd drift back off, just imagine the whole thing was a dream and give her back some degree of deniability. This is her chance to gently bring this to a close, but she never excepted that facing her fears would be far less terrible than the possibility of pretending that it had never happened, but she finds herself aligning her face with his and placing a gentle kiss against his lips.

In her head, her pulse is pounding like bass drums as she shifts, peppers kisses against his cheeks and his jaw, nudges against him, and whispers, "Castle, c'mon… wake up…"

The moment her plan works, she feels his body tighten and his lashes fluttering against her face as he pulls himself back from whatever dream he'd been lost in. His hands still and he pulls back from her kisses only to find he's trapped by the weight of her leg draped over his hip.

She should be terrified of what is happening, but finds adrenaline and excitement are winning out. All she can hope for is that her bravery will survive until morning and that she isn't destroying this before it even begins.

His panic is rising and she reaches out to run her palm against his cheek to calm him. "We were dreaming, Castle," she whispers, trying to find his eyes in the darkness.

He's got his mouth open and eyes darting everywhere – from her eyes down her torso to the place where their hips are cradled so tightly together – and he can't seem to catch up. A high pitched squeak manages to escape his throat as he tries once more to pull himself away and his confusion seems to increase as he realizes that she's the one holding on to him.

"We were dreaming… together…" she echoes, stroking her fingers into his hair. She needs him to understand, to accept this because it's a proverbial point of no return. No amount of fear can erase the feel of him against her and she's never going to be able to deny herself again.

Then, his hand is moving. He's dragging his fingers first along the front of his pajama pants, and the over her shorts and his confusion begins to melt from confusion to awe. Lifting his eyes to hers, he asks, "Did we… you know?"

She's smirking at him, trying to hold back a little snort at his childish words. "Depends on your definition of _you know._"

He shakes his head, staring at her. "Was there… penetration? I mean… you're still dressed and I…" He's stammering hard and something like elation is starting to flutter in her stomach.

It rolls out with her laughter and she strokes his cheek soothingly. "Then no. I'd like to think you couldn't sleep through _that_…" She punctuates it with a kiss because she can see doubt creeping up again.

Again, he's blinking and looking her up and down with this _this has got to be a dream_ look so she tries to calm the bubbly, giggling sense of relief that is spilling over inside of her. When his eyes settle once more on her face, she thinks maybe he's starting to feel it too. "I knew you were just trying to get in my pants. We both know this isn't my fault or you would have shot me dead."

"My fault?" she counters. Using the leg hooked over him to her advantage, she pounces, flipping him onto his back, her hands pinning his shoulders down quickly. "You're the one who was…"

There's more to say, but he seems to be done, silencing her by dragging her down into a kiss. His hands are so much rougher this time, holding her against his chest as he takes his time savoring her mouth. When he breaks for a breath, he asks, "Do I get to see you naked now?"

She's laughing and letting him pull her t-shirt up over her head, wondering when the questions will come. Even if she's ready to answer, he seems intent to just revel in this new experience, his fingers tracing her skin eagerly. It's her turn to wait and his turn to live out the dream they'd shared.

So she gives in.

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Prompt from the Beckett/Castle kink meme on LJ: Castle/Beckett, undercover, sharing a bed, Beckett wakes up to Castle humping/grinding against her in his sleep, extra props if she gets him off in his sleep

Also, there's one more part to this, to be posted soonish.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2 - Less angst... probably quite a bit more sappy.**

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It took him awhile to catch up to the fact that he hadn't been the only one who'd been satisfied by their semi-conscious joining. So when he finally does, she can't stop the giggle that bursts from her lips at the look of surprise on his face.

He's already pulled off her t-shirt, pushed her boxer shorts down to around her knees and her bra was somewhere on the now partially lit hotel room floor. Her body is once again humming and throbbing with excitement and she's reaching for every bit of his skin that she can reach when his hand slips between her thighs to brush upward from her knee towards the last remaining layer of clothing between them when he suddenly stops. His lips hover at her neck and she can almost feel the wheels turning in his head as his fingers drag along the sticky wetness that has spread along her thighs.

With one hand, he props up his upper body well enough to meet her eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in a silent question. Once more his fingers between her thighs spread and rove her skin, dragging against the evidence of her arousal. His lips are pursed but he says nothing, the ankle he has hooked over hers ceases to maintain the tension that he'd been using to help spread her legs as he lay beside her, exploring her naked body with a bright-eyed and eager excitement.

"What is it, Castle?" she finally asks, a little surprised to find that her voice has gone hoarse and that she's trembling at just how still everything except for those fingers between her legs have gone.

He gives a little shake of his head and his eyes focus on hers as he curls his fingertip against her, lightly scratching with his trim, manicured nails. The look he gives her is almost one of concern as he contemplates his answer, but the effect is ruined when his eyes slide dramatically side to side, as if checking the perimeter for prying eyes. "Did you get off on that?"

Instantly, she giggles because he asks her this as if it were the last possible scenario that he could have imagined. He whispers it, as if he were telling her dirty jokes behind the teacher's back and somewhat ashamed of his naughty, naughty thoughts. Her laughter only increases his bewilderment and she has to lift up her arm and hook it behind his neck to kiss away the uncertainty which has suddenly rendered him useless. Dragging his lower lip into her mouth, she nips softly, raking her fingernails lightly up his scalp until he softens, retrieving his lip before shifting to hover over her, the weight of his chest against her own as she brings her other hand up his cheek.

Gently, she caresses his jaw before giving him a little nudge to break the kiss. She guides his face with her hands until she can look him in the eye, unable to suppress the smug, teasing grin that accompanies her words. "I don't know, Castle, what do you think?"

He's catching up, slowly, and his fingers move once more, tracing the soaked elastic edge of her panties, dangerously close to her clit. She knows she's losing her upper hand in the situation when it elicits a harsh moan that she doesn't expect from her throat. "I think," he begins, his thick fingers dragging over the damp cotton lightly. Her lips pop open and she's making sounds she doesn't recognize as he teases, pressing only hard enough to allow the cotton to shift against the over sensitized nub. He waits, teasing until her thigh spread further, her back arching up from the mattress, to continue. "I think, that you enjoyed having me grope you in my sleep, Detective. Think you were so desperate to have me that you took advantage of me in my unconscious state rather than waking me up."

The words hurt, no matter how light his teasing tone sounded. She feels herself tense, knowing that her actions certainly could be interpreted as such and she feels a panic rising in her throat until his fingers the ankle he'd hooked over hers earlier begins to move again, spreading her legs as he shifts fully onto his side so that he can entwine the hand not currently occupied between her legs into her hair. Quickly, her gasps begin to escape to the beat of his fingers drumming against her, leaving her unable to reply, drowning the shame in heated, aching waves of excitement.

"Well, Detective?" he dares, his fingers growing more and more urgent against her.

"I might be more willing to concede your point—"

This time it's the feeling of his fingertip sliding under the edge of her underwear, tracing a path back and forth along the bend of her thigh at her hip that interrupts her. It's nowhere near her center, but his weight against her and the hand in her hair and the feeling of him is too much and she needs more. Each movement is quaking through her, triggering reactions in muscles groups that have no contact with his skin.

"You might be more willing if…?" he prompts her, using the hand in her hair to lift her head up from the pillow so that he can guide her gaze down to where his finger is starting find its way into her underwear, stretching the elastic up, then pressing inside to touch everything except for the sensitive skin and nerves that are crying out for attention.

"Fuck, Castle," as she looks down at his hand, the F dragging and stuttering before the rest of the syllables finally break free. If he hadn't reached over to turn on the bedside lamp after exposing her breasts, it might not have killed her to see it in shadows. But instead, it's just enough light to make it perfectly clear that his naked body is pressed up against her side and he has his hand down her underwear. She can't stop staring as she watches his fingers move beneath the cotton, moving way too slowly to get her off, but just enough that she's trembling and near ready to beg him. "I came so hard," she admits, in what can only be a moan, her eyes darting up to meet his.

Whether it's her words or her tone, it brings him to a complete halt. He's holding his breath and his fingers still against her. She can feel the heated flush unfurling across her cheekbones, making it impossible for her to meet his eyes. She's not sure how she expected him to react to that particular piece of information, but his sudden stillness is unnerving, leaving her heart racing so hard that even when she feels his fingers cradling her chin, she can't look up, the fear of his rejection rising in her throat.

He nudges at her chin and makes a soft, breathy sound, but she's still drawing her thighs together, trapping his fingers and feels her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Tension and heat radiate off his skin as he leans over, his lips coming to her forehead, then down across her brow and cheeks to ply her with tender kisses. The fear melts, but only slightly, and he continues along her jaw line.

"God, Kate, that's so hot…" he nearly growls and her body reacts before her brain can fully comprehend, arching her lower back to grind herself down against his fingers once more. His skin feels like it's burning into hers as his mouth opens, sucking against her chin. In answer, his fingers squirm until they can resume their torturous, trigger-action against her clit until her heart is hammering in her ears so loudly she can scarcely hear him.

"You're not… upset?" she asks, her voice too tentative and shaky for her own liking. She doesn't want to feel like this, but apparently she's not so good at giving in.

Now he's the one chuckling, his teeth nipping at his chin before he groans against her throat, his nose nuzzling against her pulse. "You, Kate Beckett, can use me for sexual gratification anytime you want," he explains, the teasing lilt in his voice so familiar, but the rasp in his throat feels like it's plucking along her nerves like guitar strings, reverberating all the way to her core. "I thought I made that clear…"

His finger is thrumming along more quickly, still rasping over her through the cotton and she can feel the heat and wetness pooling as he draws gasping breaths from her chest. Her momentary panic seems to be lifting and she reaches for him, cupping his face in her hands.

She pulls him up until she can kiss him, rising roughly against him because she can't seem to find the words to accept his offer. So she moves quickly, surprising him as she rolls, aligning their torsos, slips her hands down to his shoulders, and before he can catch up, she has him flopped onto his back and swings one leg up and over to straddle him.

The move makes him grin and she thinks that it's the same look he had after their first kiss when she's taken out that guard before he even realized she'd pulled back. Confidence is surging back and his fingers are still entangled in her underwear, though pressed awkwardly into her thigh and unable to touch what he needs to touching.

"Anytime, huh?" she teases, lifting an eyebrow as she feels him squirm in what she thinks might be equal parts arousal and cautious submission beneath her.

"Already planning to keep me cuffed to your headboard, Beckett?" he prompts, his hips jerking up roughly as she slides back, away from his fingers, bringing her ass into contact with his now bare erection. Free of the pajama pants, the sensation is even better and she can't stop the urge to lick her lips with a flourish of wanton teasing as he groans his approval.

"I have to cuff you? I thought you said you were willing…" she replies, smiling down at him as she stands up on the bed for a moment, slipping the soaked underwear down her thighs and stepping out of them. He's watching so closely as she squats back down, settling back against his hips, just slightly too high to make contact with his cock.

"Oh, I am," he replies quickly, his hands finding her hips, guiding her back until the warmest part of her is aligned with the warmest part of him, promising them both exactly what they need very very soon. "But I always thought you had a thing for handcuffs…"

With a smirk, she lifts up, her hand guiding him inside of her as she keeps the other hand firmly on the center of his chest, holding him down as she lowers herself slowly onto his cock. He makes a strangled, muffled groan, his head thrashing back against the pillow. She leans forward, rocking her hips to help him slide in deeper as she uses more weight to keep him in place. "Actually, Castle," she whispers, her body shuddering at the feel of him inside of her, finally sinking deeper as she begins to rise and fall against his hips. "I was thinking of the creative ways I could shut you up…"

Then, she's taking the hand guiding his cock and giving it a few slides against her slit before pressing it to his lips, clamping her fingers there tightly before wiggling the tips into his mouth. His eyes go wide and she gives him an encouraging smile, amazed by the surprise and delight that fills his eyes. He sucks at her fingers as she lets his hands on her hips guide her against him, the rhythm rising quickly, in spite of their earlier orgasmic release.

Her method effectively silences him for the duration, his mouth only emitting sounds and syllables that seem to float disconnected from his lips. The heat rises quickly inside her, the awareness of him and them and _finally_ washing over her faster with each movement of his cock inside her. Later, she might worry that he was so quick to accept her, to forgive the pain and hurt she'd caused him, but for now, she's finally giving in.

As she grows closer to climax, she leans down, presses them together more closely so that she can taste him, his lips now glazed in her own wetness. His knees rise up, keeping their hips aligned, tightening the friction as he strains to keep moving inside of her. It's not until he drags his tongue against hers, his fingers now gripping her ass cheeks instead of her waist that she falls over the edge, ripples of heat and excitement and sensation overwhelm her, leaving her uncertain of anything other than the feel of him filling and surrounding her. She isn't even quite certain when he comes and is only aware of when his rhythm breaks, suddenly unable to keep steady, thrusting roughly and forcefully into her until he slowly begins to release the possessive hold he has on her.

His hands slide up, wrapping around her back, holding her against his chest tightly, refusing to allow her to move, his face buried into the side of her neck. She's too hot and too sticky and too close, but it feels good, the muscles in her body rippling as they begin to finally relax in a way she hasn't felt in years. Just how much time passes by like this, she's not sure. But when she suddenly feels him wiggling under her and then hears a low chuckle that vibrates against her ear, she has no idea what's wrong with him.

Pulling her head back, she looks down at him, feeling her hair fall around them. His eyes are crinkled in laughter as he looks up at her, his body still curled up lovingly from beneath her. "I'm so glad we didn't wire this room," he manages between laughs, kissing her with his wide smile. "Also," he adds after a moment, "I so cannot believe you just let this happen on a case."

"Shut up, Castle. Are you seriously going to complain?" she mutters, eyes rolling against her own will, knowing how he seems to enjoy it. He waggles his eyebrows, his hands sliding down to cup her ass with a teasing squeeze. Without a second thought, she swats his shoulder hard then pushes herself up off his chest. "Is it always going to be like this? You acting like a horny teenager feeling me up?"

"Maybe," he replies, wiggling out from under her and rubbing his supposedly wounded shoulder. "But you liked it."

"You know, I was serious. Next time, I might just have to gag you with my underwear…" she threatens, settling against her own pillow and turning to watch as he gapes over at her. He falls silent then, clamping his lips shut dramatically as he tries to his hide the shock that instantly fills his wide eyed face. "But for now, we need to get some sleep. We still have a case and in…" A quick sidelong glance at the clock interrupts her but then she continues, snuggling herself into his chest until she can feel his heartbeat against her skin. "Just about three hours, we need to be up."

Heavy warmth is settling in, her body sinking into the mattress and into him. The need for sleep and her sated body lull away all the conversations that she'd always imagined they'd have to have after they finally crossed this particular line. She wonders if it's the same for him or if he's waiting for her as he's always done. Briefly, she glances up into his eyes, surprised to find that his eyelids are already drooping and he seems just as content to curl up and sleep as she is.

She feels his arms tighten around her and settles into the warmth, drifting off quickly to the safe, warm feeling that surrounds her. Absently, she hitches a leg over him, entwining them completely from head to toe. She's nearly asleep when she feels his lips brush her forward and feels more than hears him whisper, "Love you, Kate."

In her mind, she replies, "I love you too, Castle," but she's never quite sure if the words actually came out.

When he kisses her awake in the morning, she kisses back and realizes that he knows – has probably known longer than she has – and there's no reason to force herself to declare her love until she's ready. It makes giving in easier and when she finally says it again, nearly two months later, it dawns on her that if for no other reason, his ability to just _know_ these things about her should have told her that this was coming, that it was always going to go down this road.

Still, it takes nearly a week after they catch their concierge for her to carry out her threat. She stuffs her panties into his mouth in the back of a cab and drags him up to her apartment the night the case officially closes and she finds him just as willing as he promised, but uses the handcuffs anyway.

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**I had originally written this as just two parts, but the idea of writing that end scene just... it's been haunting my brain. But don't get overly excited, I'm slow going - this was already written just needing some cleaning up.**


End file.
